Aeneid

lifts to the skies his countenance divine,

and melts the shadows of the night away.

Upon the ramparts trembling matrons stand

and follow with dimmed eyes the dusty cloud

whence gleam the brazen arms. The warriors ride

straight on through brake and fell, the nearest way;

loud ring the war-cries, and in martial line

the pounding hoof-beats shake the crumbling ground.

By Caere's cold flood lies an ample grove

revered from age to age. The hollowing hills

enclasp it in wide circles of dark fir,

and the Pelasgians, so the legends tell,

primaeval settlers of the Latin plains,

called it the haunt of Silvan, kindly god

of flocks and fields, and honoring the grove

gave it a festal day. Hard by this spot

had Tarchon with the Tuscans fortified

his bivouac, and from the heights afar

his legions could be seen in wide array

outstretching through the plain. To meet them there

Aeneas and his veteran chivalry

made sure advance, and found repose at eve

for warrior travel-worn and fainting steed.

But now athwart the darkening air of heaven

came Venus gleaming bright, to bring her son

the gifts divine. In deep, sequestered vale

she found him by a cooling rill retired,

and hailed him thus: “Behold the promised gift,

by craft and power of my Olympian spouse

made perfect, that my son need never fear

Laurentum's haughty host, nor to provoke

fierce Turnus to the fray.” Cythera's Queen

so saying, embraced her son, and hung the arms,

all glittering, on an oak that stood thereby.

The hero, with exultant heart and proud,

gazing unwearied at his mother's gift,

surveys them close, and poises in his hands

the helmet's dreadful crest and glancing flame,

the sword death-dealing, and the corselet strong,

impenetrable brass, blood-red and large,

like some dark-lowering, purple cloud that gleams

beneath the smiting sun and flashes far

its answering ray; and burnished greaves were there,

fine gold and amber; then the spear and shield —

the shield—of which the blazonry divine

exceeds all power to tell. Thereon were seen

Italia's story and triumphant Rome,

wrought by the Lord of Fire, who was not blind

to lore inspired and prophesying song,

fore-reading things to come. He pictured there

Iulus' destined line of glorious sons

marshalled for many a war. In cavern green,

haunt of the war-god, lay the mother-wolf;

the twin boy-sucklings at her udders played,

nor feared such nurse; with long neck backward thrown

she fondled each, and shaped with busy tongue

their bodies fair. Near these were pictured well

the walls of Rome and ravished Sabine wives

in the thronged theatre violently seized,

when the great games were done; then, sudden war

of Romulus against the Cures grim

and hoary Tatius; next, the end of strife

between the rival kings, who stood in arms

before Jove's sacred altar, cup in hand,

and swore a compact o'er the slaughtered swine.

Hard by, behold, the whirling chariots tore

Mettus asunder (would thou hadst been true,

false Alban, to thy vow!); and Tullus trailed

the traitor's mangled corse along the hills,

the wild thorn dripping gore. Porsenna, next,

sent to revolted Rome his proud command

to take her Tarquin back, and with strong siege

assailed the city's wall; while unsubdued

Aeneas' sons took arms in freedom's name.

there too the semblance of the frustrate King,

a semblance of his wrath and menace vain,

when Cocles broke the bridge, and Cloelia burst

her captive bonds and swam the Tiber's wave.

Lo, on the steep Tarpeian citadel

stood Manlius at the sacred doors of Jove,

holding the capitol, whereon was seen

the fresh-thatched house of Romulus the King.

There, too, all silver, through arcade of gold

fluttered the goose, whose monitory call

revealed the foeman at the gate: outside

besieging Gauls the thorny pathway climbed,

ambushed in shadow and the friendly dark

of night without a star; their flowing hair

was golden, and their every vesture gold;

their cloaks were glittering plaid; each milk-white neck

bore circlet of bright gold; in each man's hand

two Alpine javelins gleamed, and for defence

long shields the wild northern warriors bore.

There, graven cunningly, the Salian choir

went leaping, and in Lupercalian feast

the naked striplings ran; while others, crowned

with peaked cap, bore shields that fell from heaven;

and, bearing into Rome their emblems old,

chaste priestesses on soft-strewn litters passed.

But far from these th' artificer divine